John Watson's Christmas Miracle
by ForeverShippingJohnlock
Summary: John loves Christmas. Sherlock doesn't. Will John be able to get the detective in the spirit of the season?


John Watson's Christmas Miracle

**Author's Note: Okay so I know that this is **_**ridiculously**_** late for a Christmas fic, and I really don't have an excuse as to why I didn't finish it earlier (*****hides face in shame*), but I really like how it turned out so I hope you enjoy it anyway! :) **

**Oh and I'm also going to dedicate this to Hedgehog, of hedgehogandotter, for convincing me to write a Christmas fic ;) I highly suggest reading their stuff, it's flipping fantastic :D **

John made his way through the door of 221B Baker Street, a decently sized Christmas tree trailing behind him. Sherlock was lying on the couch with his eyes closed and his hands steepled underneath his chin; mind apparently submerged in some new mystery. However, he was jerked out of his mind palace by the sounds of the Christmas tree being dragged in. He opened his eyes and groaned.

"Really, John? A Christmas tree?" he asked. John smiled.

"Of course! It's almost Christmas and I thought the flat needed a bit of holiday cheer." he replied.

Sherlock gave him a pointed look that clearly said something along the lines of "John, I realize that you could not possibly be on the same plane of extraordinary genius as myself, but even you could not possibly be this ridiculous." John decided to ignore him; he wouldn't let his flatmate ruin his favourite holiday. So, instead, he started setting up the tree near Sherlock's violin playing window, the early morning light dancing across the frosted panes.

After the tree was properly stood, John dashed excitedly to his bedroom and rifled in the back of his closet for the large old box of Christmas baubles, fairy lights, and an assortment of other various decorations. He quickly descended the stairs and started to decorate the tree. John noticed Sherlock eyeing the box with curiosity.

"These are all the decorations from when I was a kid. Some of them have been in my family for generations. We should have just enough! Do you want to help?" John asked. Sherlock snorted.

"I think not." he replied, his tone indignant.

"Oh come on, didn't you love decorating the tree when you were a kid?"

"No. Christmas wasn't exactly the merriest of holidays in our family. Father was always busy with work, and consequently, was never at home. Mycroft and I were also at each other constantly. Mummy used to try to get us in the spirit of things, but it always fell flat, especially when we deduced at a very young age that Santa could not possibly be real."

John frowned. Every kid deserved to have brilliant Christmas memories. He started to speak again.

"Christmas holidays were always great in our house. On Christmas Eve, our relatives would all come together and my mum would cook this delicious meal. Then we'd open the presents from our family. After everyone left, Harry and me would get to bed as quickly as possible. On Christmas morning, we'd run downstairs and see all of the presents that Santa had left us. Our family would spend the morning laughing and just being together. Then, my parents died." John's smile faded as he turned toward the Christmas tree.

"Things were different after that." he continued. "What used to be filled with warmth and happiness, just felt sort of empty."

Because John's back was turned, he couldn't see the sad look that had entered the detective's eyes as he surveyed his blogger. John brightened up again and turned towards Sherlock.

"That's why I want to make this year special. I want my happy Christmas memories back, and it would be nice to give you some new ones to look back on. After all, Christmas is about spending time with the ones you lo- care about." John said, catching himself. Sherlock smirked. John averted his eyes and coughed awkwardly. Before either of them had the chance to say anything, John's phone rang.

"Hello?" he said, picking it up. "Oh hi Sarah. Yeah. Yeah. Oh no, really? No no, of course I'd be happy to help. Yep, anytime. Alright, I'll be right there. Bye." John shoulders slumped after he hung up, visibly disappointed.

"They're understaffed at the surgery today, Sarah is drowning in all of the flu patients. I said that I would come in and help out." he said, making his way toward the door and putting his jacket on. "I'll probably be gone all day, I guess the decorations will just have to wait…" he continued sadly. John gave a little wave and left the flat. Sherlock smiled. His mind was made up.

He would have a Christmas miracle ready for John when he got home.

John practically had to drag himself back to the flat. It had been an exhausting day, John didn't even want to count just how many whiny flu patients he had had to see that day. So when he slowly walked up the seventeen steps to 221B, it was an understatement to say he was glad to be home. However, when he got to the top of the stairs he paused and looked at the door in surprise.

Hanging there was an elegant Christmas wreath.

_Did Sherlock…? _John thought, but stopped himself and chuckled. No it couldn't be Sherlock. The man wouldn't know Christmas spirit if it punched him square in the face. John smiled and made a mental note to thank Mrs. Hudson later. He opened the door to his flat and stopped in his tracks, his mouth open in utter and absolute shock.

221B was decorated better than Santa's workshop itself. The mantle had garland running along its edges, Sherlock's skull even had a small Santa hat on. A crystal nativity scene adorned the coffee table, and other various Christmas figurines occupied the rest of the surfaces in the room. Everything was gorgeous, but what really made John stop and stare was the Christmas tree.

It was breathtaking. Beautifully decorated, John could see many decorations from his childhood, but there were also fantastic new ones he didn't recognize. Shining silver tinsel had been dispersed evenly throughout, and the fairy lights bathed the whole room in a warm and pleasant yellow glow. Beside the tree stood Sherlock, playing the last few notes on his violin of what John instantly recognized as "The First Noël". After he finished, the detective looked at his blogger's face and smiled, pleased at the obvious positive reaction.

"Do you like it?" Sherlock asked. John's eyes widened.

"You- you mean… _you _did all this?" John stammered incredulously. Sherlock nodded.

"B-but I thought you didn't like Christmas?" John continued, still confused.

"I don't, I find it unnecessary, but it's important to you and, therefore, it's important to me." Sherlock replied. John gave him a wide smile, completely touched at the detective's caring gesture. Then, without thinking, overwhelmed with his emotions, his old happy memories, and his feelings for the detective, John quickly strode over to Sherlock and kissed him.

After a moment, John realized what he was doing and jerked backwards, stammering apologies.

"Oh god, erm, I'm sorry about that, it's well- all of this- and you- and, uh-" but Sherlock cut him off.

"John, I believe there's one more decoration you should see." Sherlock said, smirking mischievously. The detective took John's hand, led him to the kitchen doorway, and stopped. John gave his flatmate a confused look, cheeks still tinged pink with embarrassment. Sherlock just pointed upwards. John's eyes followed his finger and his breath caught when he saw what was hanging there.

A single sprig of mistletoe.

He looked tentatively back at Sherlock, a question in his eyes. The corners of Sherlock's mouth tugged upwards as he leaned in closer to his blogger and connected their lips.

The kiss started out soft and gentle, but steadily grew more passionate as John threw his arms around Sherlock's neck, fingers tangling in those delicious dark curls, and Sherlock grabbed John's hips, pulling him forward so their bodies were flush against each other. Eventually they had to pull apart, each one gasping for air. After a few moments of silence and ragged breathing, Sherlock leaned in close to John and whispered seductively in his ear, his silky baritone practically purring the words.

"Happy Christmas, John."

**Author's Note: Sooo… I can pretty much guarantee that any holiday-themed fics that I write are going to end with a kiss and Sherlock whispering the holiday in John's ear… what can I say? I just find it immensely sexy ;) Reviews are, as always, appreciated :) I wish you all the happiest of holidays! :D**


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